


Living Image of Amun

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-01
Updated: 2004-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pharaoh is lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Image of Amun

His father had worshipped the Aten, the one god, high and visible in the heavens. But his father was dead, as was his mother, and the sister-wife beside him had been their father's wife first, and turned her face away when they were in his private rooms. Pharaoh was alone, the servant of the god.

The priests said the old gods wanted to come back, that Pharaoh was a living god and should remember those whom his father had evicted from heaven. He supposed that if the other gods came back he would have company, but still he thought of his father's face, ecstatic in the light of the Aten, and he would not give the order.

The other gods had the heads of beasts, and shone with light. He was frightened, but perhaps not as surprised as he should have been to find one with the eyes of a snake in his room, its linen kilt whiter than any mortal cloth, and a faint sheen of light rising from its skin. It stepped toward him silently, reaching out with smooth, thin fingers to caress his shaved head (for Pharaoh was an adult, no matter how young, and they had cut away his youth-lock and said he must no longer play with his toys). He shivered, but the gentle touch was warm. He let himself be gathered close, shutting his eyes and pretending it was his father who held him and that he could be a boy once more.

Too soon the arms loosened about him and he looked up into the impossible eyes, not knowing how to beg. Pharaoh did not ask for anything, but he thought he could learn, if only he could be given comfort for just a little longer.

'Sweet child.'

The voice, warm and dry like a snake moving on stone.

'I can give you _so much_. But you must give me something.'

Nobody should tell Pharaoh what to do. He bit his lip, offended, anxious to please. His visitor stepped back, not looking away.

'Open the temples.'

Another step away from him. Such a little thing. Another step. Pharaoh was a god, everyone said so. And another. Pharaoh should have company.

'Yes,' he said, and ran into the outstretched arms.


End file.
